Genesis
2:15-17,25; 3:1-7, Matthew 4:1-11
What is it about Lent that makes me want
to consume a whole gallon of ice cream? I’m like Pavlov’s dog when I hear the
word Lent. I start to drool and am tempted by things that don’t seem very
Lent-ish. Cookies, ice cream, chocolate all call my name even more persistently
around this time of year. Plus, on this first Sunday in Lent, I experience an
impish desire to shout out the one word that is forbidden in church between now
and Easter. You know the word…it starts with an “A.” I get the reason why we don’t
say it. Tucking that word away and doing other things like taking the flowers
off the altar and removing the hangings help us to mark this season as a
particularly reflective and penitential time. Yet the temptation persists. If I
say “Alleluia” in a sermon can I get away with it? Alleluia, alleluia,
alleluia…no lightning yet. Hopefully I’m safe.
There are, however, much greater
temptations out there that aren’t so tongue in cheek. The temptation to lash
out in anger, to overindulge, to control others, to lie, cheat or steal
especially when we think no one will ever know, the temptation to abuse various
substances…the list is long and varied because the temptation to do things that
are not the most loving or Christ-like abounds. And it’s not just about what we
do or don’t do. Our inner life matters too. Judgmental thoughts, bitterness,
envy, selfish desires and more all come under scrutiny. Resisting temptation is
hard - plain and simple.
Because that is so, for Lent this year my
plan is to get curious. To get curious and to practice asking myself one
particular question, “What am I afraid of?” Because, more often than not, I
think it is fear that drives us into temptation. Fear of financial insecurity.
Fear of abandonment. Fear of aging. Fear of being alone. Fear of pain or
illness. Fear of death. Fear of not being good enough. Sometimes the fear is
free-floating - one that will not settle on just one fear but stirs up the dust
in all the trash bins of life. It seems to me that Lent provides a perfect time
to admit that we are full of various kinds of fears and confess our inability
to do anything about it on our own.
No surprise that fear has been with us
from the very start. We see it take root in the story of Adam and Eve. Here are
two people who had everything they could ever want. Lots of food, no need for
closets or storage units. A partner hand-picked by God. Plenty of pets but no
litter boxes or leashes to deal with. They got their steps in every day by
strolling with the Almighty. It was paradise! But even paradise turned out not
to be enough. Crafty was the serpent in floating the idea that maybe, just
maybe, there was more to be had. Perhaps God didn’t really have Adam and Eve’s
best interests at heart. That, ultimately, God couldn’t be trusted - and so was
planted the seed of fear in the garden of Eden. And boy did it flourish.
Dig deep enough and I think you will find
that at the root of all of our fears is a lack of trust in God. When we don’t
think that we can trust God it is then we are tempted to grasp at just about
anything else in a desperate hope of feeling secure. And it’s not just God that
is hard to trust. Distrust is also common in our experiences with one another.
We trust people with our love, our future, our well-being, our secrets, our
children, our parents, our money. But even those with the best of intentions
let us down - or worse, outright betray us. Once burned or maybe twice or three
times, we are tempted to never trust again. And we are tempted to believe that
God is like the people we know. So the question that the serpent stirred up in
the garden becomes ours as well. Is God trustworthy?
That question also comes up in our
reading from the gospel of Matthew. Jesus is straight out of his baptism where
he has just heard God proclaim,“This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am
well pleased.” But now in the wilderness that is called into question. Part of
the temptation that the devil stirs up is to cast doubts about that. “Really?”
he asks over and over again as he says, “IF you are the Son of God” do this or
that… It’s an attempt to, once again, plant that seed of distrust. God says you
are the Beloved Son but how can you really be sure? Jesus’ response? He doesn’t
take the bait. Instead he responds with the assurance of scripture. Jesus
trusts God. He knows whose Beloved Son he is and rejects the temptation to
distrust God even when life isn’t smooth - even when that trust will eventually
lead him to the cross.
Oftentimes the takeaway message from this
story goes something along the lines of, “Be like Jesus and don't give in to
temptation.” Which isn't a bad message but it's an adequate one. The “Just say
No!” approach to any temptation produces mixed results, at best. That's because
- news flash - we're not Jesus. We don't have his ability to say, “No,” over
and over and over again to temptation. Fear has disordered us this way. We may
believe there is a God. We may want to trust God. But when we are insecure and
filled with fear? That’s a tall order.
So we’ve already established that I’m not
Jesus and neither are you. But Christ through the power of the Holy Spirit does
dwell within each and every one of us. Which means we can turn to God - and to
each other - for help in all the fearful temptations of life. And as we do, as
we turn towards God who is love, fear subsides. Because - and I’m going to
follow Jesus’ lead here and quote scripture by saying - “It is written.” There is no fear in love, but perfect love
casts out fear. (1 John 4:18)
This Lent I invite you to join me in
getting curious. Consider taking up the practice of regularly asking yourself,
“What am I afraid of?” and then listen. Pay attention to what the answer may
be. Bring it before God and listen again. Let God speak to you of your
belovedness, for you too are a child of God in whom God is well pleased. Let
the power of that love do its holy work - casting out fear and making room for
more trust. For it is written, The Lord
is trustworthy in all he promises and faithful in all he does (Psalm
145:13b, NIV). May we never be tempted to believe otherwise.
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